


Take Me Home Tonight

by BloodyGelPens



Category: Ash vs Evil Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Consensual Sex, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Horror, Older Man/Younger Woman, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyGelPens/pseuds/BloodyGelPens
Summary: The reader runs into a regular at work; the night goes downhill from there. Or does it?
Relationships: Ash Williams/Original Female Character(s), Ash Williams/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Take Me Home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is some dirtyyyy stuff right here. If that's not your thing, move along. Also read the tags. I just love this dirty bastard and the plot bunnies ensued. Reader is a legal and consenting adult.
> 
> xoxo,  
> Bloody

Elk Grove was a stagnant bog, it’s incredibly thick roots inescapable like a pit of quick sand. No matter how close you’d gotten to not only fleeing it’s throes, and the entirety of the Midwest, you were sucked back in.

You were in hell, almost Canada, Michigander hell.

But other than inhabiting your shithole apartment and tending bar in this backwater burg – you were living the all-American dream. At least you would be if the beer hoses didn’t keep getting clogged. You knew the guy who cleaned them did an abysmal job, preferring to ogle you instead. He was a sleazebag, skinny as a rail with a tattoo of a snake wrapped around his throat.

The only reason you had the visage burned to your memory was because you wanted to deck him square in the teeth next time you saw him. Because he was the sole reason you were kneeling on the dirty rubber mat, trying your best to get one line operational before the Bowl-A-Roll pulled in a crowd.

The fact that it was a rainy Tuesday night in October made that less likely, but not impossible. You’d once seen a full-fledged tournament fill the place during a blizzard in the middle of February.

But as you only heard the hollow echo of pins crash every few minutes at 8 pm, you figured you wouldn’t be bombarded.

“C’mon, you little fucker.” You hissed, holding down the nozzle lever so hard your knuckles turned white. Adding your other hand you comically pointed the spigot like a pistol.

_One, two, three…draw!_

If this had been the OK Corral, Wyatt Earp would’ve shot you down in cold blood. But it was just a frustrated bowling alley barmaid trying to mend one thing in her life. And what felt like the saddest shootout in the Lower Peninsula quickly morphed into a Three Stooges routine.

You must’ve been high on Karma’s list because as soon as you turned the barrel to your eye, a foamy stream of Miller light doused your face before fizzling out.

“Son of a _bitch_.” You rose on your knees, using the corner of your flannel to dab your skin dry. This was perfect. So _fucking_ perfect. Angry tears began to well up, threating to fall.

“You know, babydoll, there’s better things a woman can do on her knees.” That cocky baritone froze you in your tracks. One you hadn’t heard in months and ,quite frankly, hadn’t missed.

_Fuck off, Williams._

You slowly rose to your booted feet, unceremoniously stashing the lines back in the cabinet. You skulked over to the cooler.

“What’ll it be, old man?” you jested, a little too icily. A smooth and bass-y chuckle followed, reminding you that very little got to Ash Williams. You smirked, a hand already curling around the PBR tallboy before he even answered.

“You, in my bed. Slathered in whipped cream.”

You rolled your eyes, preparing for a playful tongue lashing. Per usual. Slamming the cooler door, you smoothly spun on your heel.

“Listen, Ashy Sla-” The words caught in your throat. You knew it had been a while since you saw him last, but a part of you didn’t think people really changed that much past age 40. Yet here was the weathered boomer, old enough to be your father that really had your silver fox sense’s tingling.

His obviously dyed hair pomaded and groomed nicely, broad shoulders threatening to bust out of the restrictive chambray shirt, the slight bit of graying chest hair exposed. Even his ‘woody’ had been replaced with a cybernetic attachment.

_Damn, Ashy Slashy._

“In your dreams, cabin boy.” Cracking the beer open with a crisp sizzle, you sat the can in front of him. Things would have been relatively normal if it weren’t for the blush crawling up your neck. Of course, those deep dark eyes only sparkled in amusement.

Ignoring him, you turned away to fix yourself a rum and coke.

“You normally host a wet t-shirt contest for all of your patrons?” Your cheeks blazed at that. That cheeky grin you caught from your peripheral didn’t help the matter.

“Don’t flatter yourself, tough guy.” Hoisting yourself up onto the bar, you sat less than a foot away from the aged deadbeat. Though you had to admit that he cleaned up particularly well. The two of you chatted for a while, like time hadn’t passed at all.

When the clock hit 9 and the only family in the alley left, you grabbed a sixer from the cooler before hopping back up on the counter.

“You shouldn’t have.” Ash cheesed, grabbing a green bottle from the case. You rolled your eyes as you threw one leg on either side of the bar. It didn’t take a lot to rev this man’s engine, but that was in the traditional masculine way. Your legs spread open in skin-tight denim was enough to make his breathing hitch.

It was apparent that you were a little blitzed and weren’t trying to be enticing on purpose, so he ignored it. The conversation drifted from a bevvy of topics ranging from how you were both failed alumni of Michigan State to music preferences.

“So you’re telling me you really dig ‘Cheap Trick’?” Ash cocked his head like a confused dog.

“What’s wrong, Williams? Young women aren’t allowed to like 70’s rock n’ roll?” You jested playfully, the alcohol shrouding your edginess as a giddy school-girl. The man considered this for a moment before tilting his head back to take another swig.

You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, his throat taut and muscular. There were several ways this night could’ve gone: ogling a middle aged regular that consistently hit on you was not on the top of the list.

“Now, I never said that y/n.” He sat his now empty bottle of Rolling Rock down with gusto. “You just seem liked the type of little lady into all those boy bands with the long hair and black painted nails.”

A sober Y/N would’ve been offended, but you only found yourself nodding in agreement as Ash stalked off to the juke box. There only a sliver of shame as you devoured his swagger, the way he rolled his sleeves up his tan forearms, cracking his knuckles before perusing through the song selections.

A sober you would’ve also thought the shot gun slung across his back to be suspicious. But the most you do now is shrug.

With your distraction busy, your brain starts to pull you back to reality. The place still had to be closed or your boss would have a shit fit. And if he somehow knew you were thinking about him, your sniveling manager Rick trotted by suspiciously.

He stared at you from the shoe rental counter. Waving awkwardly, this broke the man from his reverie. Grabbing a few glasses to set on the counter, only to turn back around to find Rick gone. A part of you wanted to investigate but your pleasantly tipsy brain sighs in relief as the opening notes to _Southern Girls_ dances into your ears.

“Care to dance, sweet cheeks?” Ash opens his broad arms, one thick eyebrow arched suggestively. Liquid confidence thrums in your blood as you muster your best sexy walk. Shrugging your flannel off, you secure it tightly around your waist.

_I've been up, I've been down  
I've been weak, I've been strong  
But I never met someone like you_

You pretend not notice his dark eyes rake over your tattoos and exposed bra straps. He, however, does notice you bite your lip when his hands come to rest on your hips. The cybernetic one flexes slightly making you jump.

_And you'll never run away  
When you find why I wanted to find you_

“Have mercy on me, babydoll.” He nearly groaned when you looped your arms around his neck. And nothing could’ve ever prepared either party for what you said next.

“I’ll go easy on you, daddy.”

_You say hump and I'll jump  
You say go and I'll know_

Maybe it was the change in demeanor from ‘fuck up’ to ‘man with a plan’ or maybe laying it on thick was finally working. You hadn’t the slightest.

And Ash couldn’t help but revel in the Freudian slip. Your eyes were as big as saucers, a metaphorical deer in the headlights. It was a strange change of pace; he’d only known you as the confident bartender that didn’t take shit from no one.

This was… _something else_.

_Waste no time getting so close to you  
And all you Southern girls got a way with your words and you show it_

“Didn’t know you were into that kinda thing.” His large palm drifted to the top of your thigh. And just like the flip of a switch, the façade was back. Back straightening, you snaked your hands up to his barrel chest and pushed him away.

“You can stick around William, but I gotta start cleaning up.” You weren’t fuming. It was more confusion and disgust in yourself than anything. “And I’ll have to throw your ass out if you bring the shotgun next time.”

You didn’t waste any time legging it to the stock room, hearing a muffled ‘ _the safety’s on!’_ as you rounded the corner. All you could think about was the dark solace of hiding in the storage room for a moment.

Flicking on the light, you made your way down the dim nook in search of straws and napkins. But they weren’t on the top shelf where they always sat.

_Strange._

Shrugging it off, you finally found the box on the second to bottom shelf, haphazardly shoved to the back. Pulling it out revealed the pallid and distorted face of Rick. A shriek escaped your throat as your demented boss hissed and grabbed for you with rotted nails.

The box of paper products crashed to the ground in a flurry. You sprinted to the door, screaming as you did. Possessed Rick did the same.

It was a long jog but right now it seemed like miles away, practically unattainable. But it wasn’t until you slipped on a napkin that your glimmer of hope fizzled away. Head slamming onto the concrete floor, you felt chills creep up your spine.

“ASH!” You howled at the top of your lungs. That asshole was your only hope. “HELP!”

Rick laughed as he clumsily slammed the door shut, locking it. His features were more sickening than usual; his eyes were practically pinned open, irises milky white, his lips were cracked and covered in spittle, and his bones stretched against his skin so tightly she thought they might pierce through.

“Too bad the old man can’t help you now.” He leaned so close that his patchy mustache nearly prickled against your lip. He was even more horrid than usual. “Lousy perve just wanted to get in your pants anyways.”

“Go to hell,” was all you said before head butting him in the nose. This cracked the rotting appendage open, a black sludge leaking out of the hole in response. Squirming did nothing but incense the monstrous abomination.

“You first.” He bellowed maniacally, procuring a box cutter from his shirt pocket. The metal glinted in the low light as dead Rick slowly brought it to your throat.

“Y/N?” Ash’s muffled voice called from down the hallway, followed by the heavy thud of boots. You attempted to scream but Rick only covered your mouth with his decaying palm, dragging the knife across your neck.

A necklace of blood droplets dripped free.

The doorknob jiggled in futility. You were expecting him to kick the door off its hinges; but Ash Williams was unpredictable.

After the unmistakable sound of a shotgun cocking, a hole exploded through the door. Ash rolled his neck before turning the barrel of his boomstick at the deadite trying to kill you. His opaque eyes shot to the man in the doorway.

Your eyes raked over Ash with relief and a hint of desire. Maybe it was because it had been ages since you’d gotten laid. Or maybe it was the confidence and sheer machismo this man oozed as he swung his rifle around and decked Rick when the deadite lunged at him.

Lifting yourself off the ground, you scrounged around for anything that could pass for a weapon.

“It’s lights out, pal,” Ash quipped, driving his thick fist towards the undead sleaze’s rotten teeth. Until a cold clammy hand caught his mid punch.

“ _Poor Ash. Always going after a piece of tail that doesn’t want you back._ ” He wasn’t sure what made him choke; it wasn’t exactly new for the deadites to pack in the punches. But damn if they didn’t always hit right where it hurt.

A man in his fifties trying to get whippersnappers in the back of the Delta for some fun. Was it that depressing?

Before he could answer his own thought, Ash felt the cold clammy hand of death clasp around his thick throat. The rotten fingers dug into his skin as the undead bowling alley manager began lifting him off the ground.

Panicked and running out of options, you pulled ballpoint pen out of your flannel pocket.

“Leave him alone, maggot breath!” you roared, driving the cheap BIC into your undead manager’s exposed ankle. The rotted flesh broke easily, releasing more putrid sludge. It did Rick little damage but was just enough of a distraction for Ash to rip himself free and land that blow to the deadite’s jaw.

With a slick spin of the rifle once more, he was ready to seal the deal.

“Next time, let the lady hit below the belt.” Delivered with a suave grin and wink aimed your way, he blew Rick’s head off. Blood and viscera painted the cramped quarters, yourself included. In a matter of seconds you had gone from inexplicably aroused to inconsolable.

Ash carefully holstered his gun before carefully slinking over to you. He awkwardly helped you to your feet. He clapped you on the shoulder while you tottered on the balls of your feet.

“It’s gonna be okay, kid.” Was the most he offered. You weren’t sure if it was the attempt at comfort or the fact that you’d just witnessed something gruesomely spectacular, but you found yourself burying your bloody face in his chest.

“Listen,” Ash attempted to placate your sobs, running a rough hand down your back, “I’ve never been great with female emotions. But we’ve gotta get out of here before more of these little shits show up.”

“And go where?” You pushed yourself back, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m glad you shot my creepy, zombified boss but I’m not going anywhere – hey!”

“There’s my girl!” he said triumphantly, before tossing you over his shoulder and hauling you out of there like a rag doll.

You’d have fought more if you hadn’t been so scared. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy being slung over Ash’s broad back. It was comforting to say the least. Feeling his muscles gliding beneath you, the heat that radiated off him, even the fact that he smelled of a woodsy musk beneath the stench of blood and death.

Carefully, Ash loaded you into the passenger seat of the Delta. Partially for your benefit, partially as to not smear blood on the seats.

“There we are, honey buns.” He continued to pour it on thick as he carefully tucked your legs inside. All you could muster was a tired mumble. Slamming the door, the deadite marksman looked around cautiously. With a quick check to the hitch and shrugging off the restrictive holster, Ash worked his way to the driver’s seat.

“Why don’t we head somewhere cozy for the night play a celebratory game of hide the salami? After all, I am a man and you are - ” That deep brown gaze was lost on you, not to mention the cheesy one liners. Curled up in the passenger seat, Ash watched as you slept fitfully.

“Out cold,” he sighed, punching his old reliable into drive. Hopefully he could find a decent place to park the Airstream for the night. Maybe an RV park with a decent shower house. 10 o’clock at night – he should be able bust a nut in peace while you slept off the last few hours.

Besides, you both needed your wits about you in this world he’d singlehandedly released evil on. Again.

~~~~~

It was still pitch-black outside when you woke. Of course, you hadn’t the slightest where you were. Back aching from the less than supportive mattress, you lifted yourself onto your elbows carefully. Its then you saw Ash, cleaning his rifle on the nearby sofa.

He wore a fresh pair of jeans and another button up, this one completely open. There was something about the silvery flashes in his hair, his strong biceps, the expanse of chest hair across his thick chest. His hair no longer gelled back, a few damp strands falling into his face.

Chewing your lip, you continued to drink in the man you’d known for years. There had never been a spark of attraction there; constant come-ons from clumsy old men had never really been your forte. But it was like you were seeing Ash Williams with fresh eyes.

“Well, look who’s up.” He smirked, giving you a quick wink before setting his rifle on the coffee table and packing a bowl. “You smoke?”

“Occasionally.” You winced, the back of your skull searing in pain. Suddenly getting a little stoned sounded soothing. But not until you showered. Dried blood was caked on your skin and smelt rancid. Not to mention the bits of brain that was no doubt misted in your hair. “How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half.” Ash his brow, diligently packing the freshly ground ganja into a glass pipe.

“And _you_ brought me in here?” You arched an eyebrow, shrugging off your blood-stained flannel in the process. The man scoffed, the most incredulous you were sure he’d ever been.

“I didn’t try anything if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Excuse me for being a woman living in the 21st century.”

“Believe me – I prefer my women conscious.” Ash lit up, eyes falling shut as he did so. You couldn’t help but gawk as he expelled plumes of smoke from his mouth. You’d hardly remembered you were staring until he peeked open one eye. “Like what you see, little lady?”

“This place have a bathroom? A shower stall or something?” Deliberately avoiding the question, Ash couldn’t help but grin at your feistiness. That was something he’d always enjoyed about your interactions. Despite being decades younger, you weren’t afraid to bite back at him. Sure, he’d continued to hit on you mercilessly, but his number one goal wasn’t to get in your pants. It was still high on the list but he liked to creep beneath your skin a bit, make you bite back. “Well?”

Your voice yanked him back into reality, though he’d wish you’d yank more. 

“On the other side of the chateau, babydoll.” He hit the bowl again, leaning back in his seat. Even covered in deadite guts, you were still a looker. What he wouldn’t do to kiss every inch of your body. “Let me know if you need help washing any hard-to-reach places.”

You flashed him a warning look, though the way he flexed his thick fingers made your mind drift to the vulgar. Face blazing, you were grateful for the layer of dried blood. Instead, you shrugged your flannel and jeans off. Ash’s eyes widened intently.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You muttered, “If you want to help, I could use something to change into.”

“That’s no fun,” he coughed after a particularly large puff. “But if you insist to clothe that gorgeous body, you can grab whatever you want out of the closet. By the lizard.”

Ignoring the come on, you confidently marched your way down the trailer. There was a cubby with a few garments hanging up – several ensembles identical to what he was wearing currently.

“This stuff clean?” you wrinkled your nose at the disarray.

“Comparably.” His deep baritone boomed the non-answer. Using your best judgement grabbed you a wrinkled white t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Next stop – a hot shower. But not before that, you admired the bearded dragon in his tank. The little guy sunned himself on a small log, blissfully unaware of the world outside.

You smiled, carefully tapping the glass and sticking your tongue out at the sweet fella. Ash exhaled another cloud of cannabis, watching you with the wryest of smirks: here was this woman he hardly knew walking around in her underwear, covered in dry blood, blowing raspberries at a reptile.

It was cute.

Being a man who prided himself on his machismo wondered if he was being too soft. But watching you walk to the shower did the exact opposite. Groaning, Ash threw his head back on the sofa.

Meanwhile, you weren’t faring any better. The ‘bathroom’ was intensely cramped, not to mention the shower itself. There was a very battered bottle of Irish Spring. You highly doubted it’s claims of being both hair and body wash but were in no position to argue.

At first, you’d begged Ash to take you home but the more he insisted you were safer splitting with him, you were starting to believe him. Not to mention the mounting fear and confusion of what you’d seen earlier. You wanted to be protected by a strapping man.

A strapping _older_ man with a strong jaw and broad shoulders…

Blinking hard, you let water rinse over your body. This was not the thought that should be occupying your mind. You weren’t supposed to want to fuck the man who hit on you relentlessly who constantly offered to bend you over the bar bathroom.

However, it seemed that Ash Williams had two sides: that of the incapable doofus or the brawny hero who effortlessly spun shot guns. Both were vain, cheesy goofs.

And the whole ‘daddy’ mishaps…

You felt your cunt clench at the thought of it. How the night would’ve gone if hadn’t been for your undead manager. Would you have invited him back to your apartment? Let him boss you around? Take you from behind? Smack your ass until burned bright red?

Probably.

But now wasn’t the time to pursue him. Or was it? You knew he wouldn’t refuse the offer. And you certainly couldn’t relieve the ache yourself. Not in such close quarters. You could barely move an inch without slamming your elbow into the wall.

You were sure the rhythmic thrumming might not only rattle the entire Airstream but also attract some attention.

_Isn’t that what you want?_

Blinking again, you swallowed the stray thought and cut the water. Drying yourself off you threw on the shirt you grabbed, opting for your panties over the boxers; if the bottoms were anything like the tee, they’d just fall right off your body anyways.

You slunk out of the cubicle, tendrils of steam following. Ash was spread out on the sofa, eyes closed. Maybe he’d fallen asleep?

You weren’t sure. But the fact that his eyes weren’t immediately glued to your half naked form was a relief. Padding back over to the terrarium, you goofed around with the lizard some more. Your friends had always mocked you as a child, remarking on how creepy and weird you were for liking creepy crawlies.

Yet the little guy was adorable, his head and tongue flitting about occasionally.

“Y’know most women aren’t crazy about Eli. Though, the snake I keep around here they go crazy for.”

Jumping, your head snapped up; Ash leaned against the counter, arms crossed. His shirt still undone, eyes were bloodshot and heavy. You clenched your thighs together.

“I’m not most women.” You crossed your own arms, attempting to mirror the man’s stance. This garnered a deep chuckle. The sound made you shiver as your gaze locked. Closing the distance, Ash firmly tilted your chin up.

“You’re telling me. Now give daddy some sugar.” His robotic hand gripped your thigh. You didn’t want to be turned on. Yet, here you were; standing half naked in some psycho’s RV, soaking your panties in anticipation.

Throwing caution to the wind, you met Ash’s lips with vigor. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t pleasantly surprised. He moved languidly against your mouth, roughly snaking his fingers in your hair. Your heart was hammering in your chest as the kiss grew more intense. His tongue traced the seam of your lips before thrusting into your mouth.

Fists gripped the lapels of his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. A sudden strike of his mechanic hand against your ass made you moan into him.

“You like that, babydoll?” He broke the kiss suddenly, “Did that…wet your whistle?”

Heavily rolling your eyes, you made work of unbuttoning his shirt. Ash lifted you up by the waist, teetering slightly as he worked to carry you to the altar of mattresses on the other side of the RV. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him.

Between a flurry of kisses and bites, Ash unceremoniously dropped you onto his bed.

“Say you want it.” He demanded cartoonishly, unbuckling his belt. “Tell daddy what you want.”

Your eyes watched intensely as Ash pushed his jeans down, revealing his hard erection straining against his boxers. A part of you wanted to give in, to free his cock and suck the length of him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it.

But there was no time to act as you felt a rough palm open your legs at the knees. Ash palmed himself lazily through his boxers, flashing you a mischievous grin as his dark eyes darted from your soaked panties up to your face.

“You want it that bad and I _still_ can’t get you to ask for it?” Batting long lashes like a Bugs Bunny cartoon, you suddenly felt exposed. Sure, you weren’t shy about sex. But it had been a while; you were a bit rusty. However, the prospect of being with an older man who was practically a stranger made your stomach knot.

Like butterflies but slightly foreboding.

_Tell daddy what you want._

A blush crept up your neck. In an instant, you twisted your knees shut and averted your gaze. Ash eyed you cautiously. He wasn’t used to being with women who gave a quick fuck much of a second thought. You were different; you had layers.

“Listen kid,” His smooth baritone voice in your ears was enough to make you melt. He sat on the edge of the bed, his human hand resting comfortingly on your calve. “If you’re not feeling it, we don’t have anything that you don’t want. “

Your embarrassment wasn’t washed away entirely, but you were far more incensed by Ash’s sudden streak of tenderness that the heat between your legs became unbearable. Legs falling open once more, you languidly pulled his shirt over your head.

“How ‘bout you fuck me, _daddy_?” Your eyes roamed across the expanse of Ash William’s: the jet black hair with just a tinge of grey, his strong jaw and dark eyes, his muscled barrel chest that rose and fell steadily.

In a blink, he covered your body with his. Lips on yours, you let his unbridled passion consume you. One rough hand groped your breast while the other toyed with the elastic of your underwear.

“Gotta say, babydoll,” his voice was husky in your ear. “I thought you’d never ask.”

His lips ghosted down the column of your neck, nipping at your collar bone before assaulting your chest. Moaning loudly, your hips bucked against the thigh that rested unceremoniously between your legs.

A thick finger dipped beneath the waist band of your underwear. A shiver traveled down your spine as he dragged the digit through your sopping heat.

Kissing you deeper, he plunged two fingers inside of you. The squelching of your pussy was pornographic.

“Oh,” you mewed, “Ash…”

“Hearing my name on your lips is like a dream, baby.” The older man smirked before curling his fingers up.

“Like…a, a…” speaking was nearly impossible as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, “A wet dream.”

“I like the way you think,” Ash grinned before removing his fingers completely and sucking them into his mouth. Eyes heavy with lust, you sat up to capture your lips with his own. The taste of yourself mingled with the heady taste of weed.

He roughly moved you into his lap, hands squeezing your breasts together deliciously while you ground yourself against his clothed erection. The sensitive skin throbbed against him, making the need to sink into your hot cunt that much more desperate.

A rough thumb swirled your hard nipple, a needy moan echoing into Ash’s mouth. His lips broke away from yours, spilling sloppy kisses down your down as he continued to work your sensitive breasts.

“You really want it, don’t ya?” His breath was hot when it trickled into the shell of your ear. That same rough hand wound through your hair, yanking you back. His dark eyes eyed you hungrily, jaw setting. Your own fingers raked through his graying chest hair. The heavy thrum of his heartbeat vibrated beneath your fingers.

“Can you blame me?” you exaggerated a breathy voice, punctuated with a comical wink. This garnered you a smirk.

“I’d want to be full of me too, babe.”

The way his eyes creased when he flashed you that lightening white grin, how one loose strand of hair fell in his face like he was a movie star. You needed it now.

One hand reached between your bodies, pushing into the waist band of his boxers. Ash took the hint, shifting your up while he clumsily slid the garment down his legs.

Wasting no time, you grabbed his throbbing cock. You both moaned loudly as the head of his cock slid through your soaking slit. A heavy hand locked around your wrist as you moved him to your entrance.

“Listen,” his eyes met yours almost sympathetically, “I want you to ride me bareback too. But I really don’t want any little Ash’s running around. Too much responsibility.”

“Relax,” you shrugged your arm out of his grasp. “I’m on the pill.”

“I might be a fan of that Steinem bullshit afterallll….” His words failed, morphing into a ragged groan as you sank onto the hard length of him. If this was how you could shut him up, you’d take it. Filling you deliciously, a small hiss escaped your lips as your walls stretched around him.

It wasn’t until you began to move that Ash fell back upon the ancient futon. Those rough hands locked on your hips, guiding your every movement. Every thrust, you took him deeper, grinding your pelvis against him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Ash covered your hands with his, which were currently planted on his chest for leverage. With one sly move, he pulled your hands free, causing you to tumble atop him. “You trying to kill an old man?”

His thrusts grew faster, harder. You moaned into his mouth, before burying your face in the crook of his thick neck. Your motions slowed as he began to drill into that _one_ spot. Your vision swam as you began to drag your teeth across his pulse point.

The older man pushed a palm against your shoulder blade, as if to meld into a one person in a moment of passion. Your hard nipples deliciously pressed into the warm plane of his pecs.

“Assshhhhh….” You gritted as your walls began to flutter as his cocked dragged against your every ridge. You struggled to continue your ministrations as his own thrusts became more erratic.

“That’s right, honey bunny,” he groaned, his hips grinding into yours. “Say my name. Let the whole world know who’s fucking you so good.”

He stayed firmly inside of you for an instant, rocking his cock against your walls. It was a stroke of genius, you thought to yourself; pun definitely-intended. Because when he suddenly lifted your hips off of his entire member, the slam back onto him was enough to make you shriek.

“Ooohhh, daddy.” It was if something had unleashed a violent need in you. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Sitting back up, your back arched as you bounced on him. A skilled hand dipped to your clit, working yourself violently until your release ripped upon you. Ash’s eyes were a mix of awe and fear, glazed over with lust. He groaned, rutting into you until his own orgasm washed over him.

The warm ropes of come deep inside of your womb was enough to make you want to start all over again. Instead, you leaned forward onto his chest. Both covered in sweat, you struggled to steal back the breaths you had lost.

His cybernetic hand rubbed circles in the small of your back while you ran your own fingers through his chest hair.

“Why don’t you go get daddy a cold one?” he said abruptly, slapping your ass for good measure. You raised an eyebrow before sliding off him.

Slowly, you padded to the minifridge, swaying your bare bottom seductively. Peripherally watching Ash, you saw him push up onto his elbows as you procured two icy cans of beer from the otherwise empty receptacle. You tossed one over to the shoddy excuse for a bed, barely missing his crotch.

“Careful.” He scolds, cracking open the drink. “Especially if you want a second round.”

Ignoring him, you crack your own open and sloppily drain the beverage. Bubbly streams of beer cascaded over the curve of your breasts, down your thighs. You didn’t see his jaw gape as you drenched yourself. But you felt his tongue lave your drenched body when you fell back into his arms.

The rest of the world dissipated as he made your toes curl over and over again until the early hours of the morning.


End file.
